NOVPUBRaul returned to his office, his expression cold as he addressed the strategists who had followed him.
“Update me immediately on Fenris. And arrange a meeting with Amelia. Tell her we’ll provide the necessary support to regroup the northern lords.”
The strategists exchanged hesitant glances before one voiced their concerns.
“Amelia is an untested woman. Until recently, she was nothing more than a lady sipping tea in elegant halls.”
“The northern lords won’t acknowledge her authority.”
“Shouldn’t we select someone else? She hasn’t even subdued Baron Balua’s rebellion yet.”
“Even if she won the Northern Coalition War, those opponents were laughably incompetent. It was only thanks to the military forces left by the late Count Rayfold, wasn’t it?”
Raul’s frown deepened as he listened to the complaints and finally cut in, his tone icy.
“Do you have any other alternatives? We don’t need Amelia herself. What we need, as I just said, is Rayfold’s military power. There isn’t a single northern scoundrel left with that kind of strength.”
The strategists fell silent. Despite their objections, Raul’s words left no room for argument. They had no better options.
Though Amelia’s rebellion had tarnished her reputation, Rayfold was once a rival to Desmond. Its military might remained among the most formidable in the North. As Raul stated, it wasn’t about trusting Amelia but relying on the resources she controlled.
Even so, unease lingered.
“Amelia may hold Rayfold now, but she could easily ruin it over time. What if rebellions like Baron Balua’s sprout everywhere?”
“That’s why we can’t leave her unchecked. Assign someone to monitor her and ensure she acts according to our interests. We won’t let her roam free like Harold did.”
The strategists nodded in agreement. Count Desmond had been impossible to control, even when shadowed by spies. Orders could be given, but the execution was beyond their control.
Amelia, however, was a novice lord. Her focus was likely consumed by merely stabilizing her domain. Placing someone to oversee her should be enough to align her with the Dukedom’s will.
The strategists, unfamiliar with Amelia’s true nature, assumed she would be easy to manipulate.
Raul, however, wasn’t as dismissive.
‘Harold did request a capable figure to handle Jurgen, didn’t he? He wanted someone assigned to Amelia. Yet before we could send anyone, she managed to eliminate Jurgen and succeed in her rebellion.’
No matter what methods she used, eliminating the North’s greatest swordsman spoke to her competence. For a woman, that was surprisingly impressive.
Raul collected his thoughts and spoke in a frosty tone.
“Harold was a problem we were already debating how to handle, so consider this a fortunate turn of events. We’ll use our envoy and Rayfold’s army to reorganize the North. After that, we’ll deal with this ‘Ghislain.’”
Raul’s attention was far too valuable to waste on trivialities like the North. Though Ghislain’s defeat of Harold was an impressive feat, the kingdom had many other lords far more powerful than him.
The true conflict between the Dukedom and the Royalist faction was only beginning. Far greater threats than Desmond lay in wait, targeting one another.
Raul glanced around at his strategists.
“Let’s give Marquis Branford one last chance.”
“A last chance, sir?”
“Tell him that if he steps down peacefully, we’ll ensure a smooth transfer of royal authority.”
The strategists exchanged troubled looks and shook their heads.
“Marquis Branford would never accept such terms.”
“He’s the type who would break before bending.”
“No offer would sway him.”
Raul nodded in acknowledgment of their assessments. Marquis Branford’s iron will was well-known throughout the kingdom.
“I understand. But His Majesty seems a bit displeased with the current state of affairs. Consider this warning a necessary gesture.”
“A warning, you say...?”
Raul’s snake-like eyes glinted as a cruel smile spread across his lips.
“Tell him we’re prepared to turn the Royalists and the Crown itself into rivers of blood.”
When Ghislain gathered his vassals to announce his next course of action, Claude couldn’t help but object.
“What now?”
Even now, the to-do list was overwhelming. Relocating Desmond’s subjects, consolidating villages, training new recruits—these tasks were far from complete.
Before Ghislain could even respond, Claude threw up his hands in exasperation.
“We’re already repeating everything we did in our old territory! Building residences, workshops, and farmland, constructing roads, forging more weapons, setting up gambling houses, recruiting more administrators, filling the gaps in public safety—good grief, why is there so much to do?!”
Claude’s complaints seemed endless, and the pallor on the faces of those around him showed they shared his sentiments. They had already poured enormous manpower and resources into their efforts. With their growing population and territory, the scale of their operations had multiplied.
The thought of adding more to their workload was enough to make death at the hands of the late Count Desmond seem preferable.
As Claude’s rant escalated, Ghislain simply smirked and waved a hand dismissively.
“Relax. This won’t be as hard as you think. It’s something we can only do because we’ve taken Desmond.”
“And what’s that?”
“Let’s revisit our ultimate goal. Surely you all know who we’ll be fighting next?”
A heavy silence fell over the room. Everyone was painfully aware of the truth. It was no secret that the Duke’s faction stood behind Count Desmond.
Moreover, they had already crushed Count Kavaldi, an official ally of the Duke’s faction, and seized his territory.
The idea that the Duke’s forces would stand idly by was absurd. Their current survival was only thanks to the Royalists keeping the Dukedom in check. 𝓷ℴ𝓿𝓹𝓾𝒷.𝓬𝓸𝓂
Without that balance, their campaign against Kavaldi would have been their end.
Similar thoughts flashed through everyone’s minds.
‘This... this is insane.’
‘We’re really going to fight them?’
‘How did it come to this?’
Following Ghislain’s relentless orders had left them no time to process the reality of their situation. They had toppled Desmond, once the North’s mightiest, and taken his place. And now, they faced the prospect of war against the Dukedom.
It was almost too much to believe—or accept.
Objectively, their achievements warranted pride. Against anyone other than the Duke’s faction, they would have had nothing to fear and might have even grown complacent.
But knowing the strength of their next opponent filled them with humility.
Ghislain observed their sobered expressions with amusement.
“I like that attitude. A little humility keeps you from growing complacent.”
“...”
The irony wasn’t lost on them. The man extolling the virtues of humility was the last person they would describe as such.
“We have no choice but to clash with the Duke’s faction. The battlefield will expand beyond the North to encompass the entire kingdom.”
Fenris alone couldn’t match the Duke’s power. They would need to align with the Royalist faction. That meant constant movement—rushing to reinforce allies, launching surprise attacks on the Duke’s lords, and more.
Simply staying on the defensive would guarantee their downfall. That much was clear.
Ghislain spread out a map and pointed to a specific location.
“Our next target is here.”
The vassals stared at the spot he had marked, swallowing nervously.
“Wait... that place?”
‘Are we seriously going after that place?’
‘Surely we’re not attacking it directly ourselves, right?’
The location Ghislain pointed to was none other than the Marquisate of Rodrick, a Dukedom stronghold in the western part of the kingdom.
Though officially classified as part of the western region relative to the capital, Rodrick's domain was geographically central to the entire kingdom. Its vast expanse connected all regions of the kingdom, save the eastern provinces, making it a critical transportation hub.
Ghislain’s expression lit up with excitement as he spoke.
“You know how filthy rich this place is, right? Once we take it, the money will practically roll in every time we wake up.”
As a major trade hub, the Marquisate of Rodrick had a highly developed economy, amassing immense wealth over generations. This financial power had allowed Rodrick to rise as a dominant overlord of the western territories.
Even the Royalist faction kept a close eye on this domain, stationing the kingdom’s forces nearby. Its proximity to the capital made it a key threat in the event of civil war.
Should Fenris succeed in capturing this territory, they would gain the strategic advantage of being able to strike in any direction across the kingdom.
“The east is firmly under the control of Marquis Branford and the Royalist faction, so there’s no need to worry about that. But if we take this place, we’ll have the means to strike at Dukedom lords all across the kingdom. It’ll massively expand our reach. Not to mention, those Dukedom nobles won’t dare make careless moves knowing I could stab them in the back at any time.”
Claude scratched his head with a grimace, as he always did when Ghislain made things sound so simple.
“My lord, the Marquis of Rodrick is one of the kingdom’s most venerable overlords and the Supreme Commander of the Western Army. He’s a noble neither the Dukedom nor the Royalists dare to provoke.”
Ghislain gestured for him to continue, his expression as if encouraging a child to speak their mind. With a sigh, Claude obliged.
“Besides, the territory is incredibly strong. If even the impoverished Desmond in the North was that much trouble, Rodrick’s wealth and power are on a completely different level.”
“Do I look like someone who loses?”
“...How many wins does that make again?”
Claude wanted to argue that Ghislain’s victories were often aided by people like Gillian holding the line or reinforcements arriving in the nick of time. But the truth was that Ghislain always tore through the enemy himself. There was no point in arguing.
“Fine. Let’s say we manage to take that place. Do you honestly think the Dukedom would just let such an important strategic hub slip away? They’d attack us from all sides.”
“Then we’ll crush them all too.”
Claude could only think to himself.
“Sure, fine, just do whatever you want. When haven’t you?”
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
He no longer felt like trying to convince him otherwise. It never worked anyway. If Ghislain decided they were going to take something, they were going to take it, no matter the cost.
Of course, Ghislain wasn’t targeting the Marquisate of Rodrick just because it seemed appetizing.
‘That man was the overlord of the West.’
Just as Count Desmond had ruled the North, Marquis Rodrick commanded the West. His immense power made it only natural. He had already united all the western nobles under his command. In Ghislain’s previous life, it had been Marquis Rodrick who captured the capital first.
If Ghislain could destroy him in a surprise attack, the western nobles would be left without a true leader.
Ghislain had no intention of wasting time wearing down minor lords one by one in an endless war of attrition.
“I’m not saying we strike immediately. I’m saying we prepare with this as our goal. This won’t just be a territorial skirmish anymore. Once civil war breaks out, battles will erupt across the entire kingdom.”
“Oh, so we’re waiting for the right opportunity,” Claude said, nodding. He had to admit, the risk would be reduced if they didn’t aim for a direct confrontation.
They could coordinate with the Royalists, exploit Marquis Rodrick dividing his forces, or even attack while his territory was left undefended.
“Exactly. Many lords will be on the move, and battles for strategic superiority will be constant. If we use those gaps to our advantage, we have a real chance.”
“So how do you plan to prepare?”
“There’s plenty to do, but our first priority is to enhance our mobility. It’s our greatest strength.”
“Mobility?”
“We’ve been training all our soldiers to ride, haven’t we? And we’re equipping them with lightweight Galvanium armor. No one in this kingdom has cavalry with both mobility and defense like ours.”
It was true. Heavy cavalry was slow and unsuited for long distances, while light cavalry was quick but fragile, vulnerable even to archers.
Claude began to understand what Ghislain was aiming for.
“In that case, we’ll need to finish constructing the roads as quickly as possible.”
“Exactly. Once the roads connect our territories, we’ll be able to move even faster. But we still need one more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Come on, what’s the most important thing for moving around and fighting everywhere?”
“Supply lines?”
“Exactly. Even if we manage regular supplies, those lines could be blocked or stretched too thin. We need contingencies for that. Sometimes we’ll have to move fast without waiting for resupply.”
“Well, if it comes to that, we could always resort to pillaging.”
“I don’t resort to the shame of pillaging,” the former Plundering King declared confidently.
In truth, pillaging wasn’t sustainable for long. It was a desperate measure rarely used except in extreme situations. It also came with drawbacks, such as vulnerability to scorched-earth tactics, delays caused by the act itself, and hostility from the local populace. Claude understood all this but couldn’t help shooting a sideways glance at Ghislain. Didn’t this guy once call himself the Plundering King?
He voiced his thoughts aloud.
“Well, we’ve already been producing a lot of biscuits. And we’re slowly starting to produce chicken jerky. Isn’t that enough?”
“Of course not. That won’t last long.”
In this era, portable and long-lasting food options were limited. Jerky and dried bread were among the few options, but they weren’t enough to sustain prolonged operations without resupply. Their bulk also made it difficult to carry more than a few days’ worth.
Without stable supplies, their range of movement would be limited. And limiting their mobility meant undermining their greatest strength. That wasn’t something Ghislain could accept.
He had a solution in mind.
“We’ll develop a new kind of combat ration. Something easy to carry and that lasts for a long time.”
A confident smile spread across Ghislain’s face.
